


spontaneous

by see_addy_write



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-04 22:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18821587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/see_addy_write/pseuds/see_addy_write
Summary: That’s where Guerin comes in. He’s a good distraction – the best, in fact. They’ve only been doing this for a few weeks, this sneaking around and kissing thing, but Alex’s entire body thrills when they share space. Michael’s warm and safe, in a way that Alex hasn’t experienced since his mom fucked off to parts unknown, and best of all, he never asks questions. He knows what Jesse Manes is like, and knows there’s nothing he can do to change it. Michael’s lived through similar experiences, so he’s not as naive as Liz and Maria and Rosa, who think they can help. That’s why he’s here, rather than with one of them; Michael gets it, gets Alex, in ways they never will, no matter how hard they might try.





	spontaneous

**Author's Note:**

> i've got six fics started right now & nothing finished -- so, naturally, instead of actually finishing one i started something completely different and wrote it in an hour. yikes. 
> 
> this was based on a prompt from @sabrinachill: "Let's do something sponataneous!" sorry it lacks fluff, which that prompt practically screams for. someday i'll be able to do fluff. someday.

“Let’s do something spontaneous.” 

The light-hearted words are at odds with the bruises darkening on his ribs and the blood trickling from a split eyebrow, but Alex lifts his chin and stares at Michael, daring him to comment on his appearance. The other boy’s truck is parked on old Sanders’ property at the garage, where Alex knows he’s been staying now that the weather is getting warmer, but it’s late enough that Michael and Alex are the only ones around. It’s good that they’re alone; Alex doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to keep up the act that he’s totally unbothered by what his father’s done to him this time, and the idea of breaking down with witnesses is enough to make him want to crawl into a hole and never come out. 

That’s where Guerin comes in. He’s a good distraction – the best, in fact. They’ve only been doing this for a few weeks, this sneaking around and kissing thing, but Alex’s entire body thrills when they share space. Michael’s warm and safe, in a way that Alex hasn’t experienced since his mom fucked off to parts unknown, and best of all, he never asks questions. He knows what Jesse Manes is like, and knows there’s nothing he can do to change it. Michael’s lived through similar experiences, so he’s not as naive as Liz and Maria and Rosa, who think they can help. That’s why he’s here, rather than with one of them; Michael gets it, gets Alex, in ways they never will, no matter how hard they might try. 

“Something spontaneous, huh?” Michael repeats, lifting one eyebrow expectantly. He doesn’t look put out at Alex’s sudden appearance in the middle of the night – if anything, he seems pleased to see him. But Alex can see the worry in his dark eyes, and he’s not oblivious to the fact that Guerin is staring at the blood dripping slowly down his cheek. But as long as he doesn’t ask, doesn’t try to make Alex explain or talk about it, he doesn’t give a shit.

As always, Michael doesn’t disappoint him. All he says is, “You got something in mind, or -?”

Alex doesn’t, really. His entire plan in coming to find Michael had been to get the hell out of his house - away from his brother’s pitying looks and his father’s fists - and he wants something to distract from the shit show that is his life. Aside from that, he’s got no idea what they should do. They’re trapped in Roswell, New Mexico, for Christ’s sake; there’s nothing to do after dusk, and Alex knows it’s well on it’s way to midnight, now. 

“You up for a drive?” he suggests finally, unable to help the infusion of hope in his voice as he glances toward the cab of the truck. Michael’s already bedded down for the night, with his sleeping bag unravelled and a pillow-imprint on his face – in fact, Alex is pretty sure he woke the other teen up when he came barreling up the driveway of the garage. He should feel guilty about that, he’s pretty sure, but the numbness he retreats to when his father decides to try to reshape Alex’s soul with his fists is starting to fade, replaced with so much helpless rage that he feels full to the brim with it. There’s no room for guilt, or for fear, just a desperate need to get out of his head for a while with someone he trusts not to hurt him. 

Michael cocks his head to one side, and the full moon grants so much light that Alex can see the considering look in his dark eyes. “Depends,” he says after a moment, and Alex’s stomach sinks. It’s only been a few weeks, but he’s gotten used to Michael answering ‘yes,’ no matter what the question. It figures that tonight, when Alex had been depending on it, would be the exception to that rule. 

“Forget it,” he mutters, temper flaring. “I shouldn’t even be here. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Alex turns and starts away from the truck with no real destination in mind. He’s not going home, and there aren’t exactly a ton of other options, but he’s not going to stand here and make a fool out of himself, either. Pride is one of the few things he can still claim, and he doesn’t intend to lose it.

A hand around his elbow stops him, and Alex yanks away and pivots in the same movement, heart pounding too quickly. He knows, logically, that it’s just Guerin, that even if he’s decided he doesn’t want Alex, he’s not going to hurt him physically, but some habits are hard to break, especially when bruises are still appearing on his skin from the last encounter with his father. 

Michael doesn’t move back when Alex whirls on him, doesn’t so much as flinch, but he holds both of his hands up where they can be seen, a metaphorical white flag of surrender that settles something in Alex’s chest. He bites his lip and loses some of the stiff-backed pride for a moment when he glances down at the ground, shame-faced. “Sorry,” he tells the desert sand. “I -” 

“I was just going to say, it depends on whether you’re willing to blow school off tomorrow,” Michael interrupts, drawing Alex’s gaze back to him. “There’s a music festival in Albuquerque this weekend. Starts tomorrow morning and runs through Sunday. I was planning on making Max and Iz come along, but neither of them will skip school tomorrow, so I would’ve missed some of the best acts – and neither of them really get why I like music so much. Not like you do.” 

There’s the faintest impression of a smile on Michael’s features as he speaks, and seeing it feels like Alex’s head has just broken water after too long submerged. An answering smile spreads over his lips, reminding him that his face hurts, but that doesn’t matter. Because Michael understands exactly how Alex is feeling in that moment, and is offering him a way out – one that saves what’s left of his tattered pride and allows him three full days to pull himself back together enough to face his father again. 

“I have some cash,” he offers, because Alex is pretty sure the grin on his face speaks for itself when it comes to whether or not he wants to go. “Enough for a motel room and some food, at least.” He’d grabbed his backpack on the way out the front door after the house went silent for the night. It’s full of clothes, enough to last a few days wherever he ended up, and a couple of hundred bucks that he’s saved from working at the UFO Museum in town for the past year. Hell, he even has an eyeliner pencil. There’s nothing stopping him from climbing in the cab of Michael’s truck and spending the next three days hiding from reality with a beautiful boy at his side. Not even the threat of the punishment that will no doubt come when he returns is enough to stop him. “If you tell me Fall Out Boy is playing, I might be willing to spring for a sixer if we can find somewhere to buy it.” 

Michael huffs a laugh. “Beer at a music fest sounds like a pretty safe bet.” He shakes his head in amusement, and any residual tightness in Alex’s chest eases at their camaraderie. “But if we’re going somewhere in public, you’re gonna have to get cleaned up. No offense, but you look a lot like an extra in a horror film, right now.” 

Alex knows he’s right; there’s blood on his face and in his hair, and his black band t-shirt is torn and dirty. His eyeliner has definitely run down his cheeks, too, courtesy of the few tears he couldn’t manage to choke back – and, yeah, Alex doesn’t want to show up anywhere looking like that. But he doesn’t see a mirror in Guerin’s truck, and it’s going to be hell trying to clean himself up without one. 

Guerin seems to read his mind. “If you let me help, we can be on the road faster,” he offers, tying off his sleeping bag and shoving it into a duffel with the other blankets. There’s a cooler to one side of the truck bed, and Michael opens it, showing Alex the bottles of water tucked inside.

Sucking in a breath, Alex forces himself to think past the immediate, visceral reaction the offer evokes. Michael wants to help, not hurt, and it’s not his fault that the thought of someone touching him right now makes his skin crawl. Plus, he’s right – if Alex tries to do this himself, he’s going to end up using the rearview mirror and making himself nuts trying to look presentable. Michael will actually be able to see, and probably be a lot gentler than Alex himself would. Decision made, Alex chews on the inside of his cheek for a minute before saying, “Just be quick, okay?” 

Michael nods immediately, and pats a spot on the open tailgate for Alex to sit. As soon as he’s made himself comfortable, Guerin is in front of him, damp rag in one hand – but he makes no move to touch Alex, not until he catches his eye and nods once in permission. That small amount of control helps with the nerves, and Alex relaxes minutely as Michael pats gently at the streaks of dried blood on his cheeks and forehead. He talks as he works; about the bands he remembers from the festival flyer at school; about how Max Evans would have been a total buzzkill at a three day party like this, anyway; about how he hates English class, but Mr. Harvey, the Chem teacher is all right – the words don’t matter, but the calm, even tone washes over Alex and lets him truly feel at ease for the first time since he got home from school that afternoon. 

He doesn’t know how Michael has learned to read him so well in three fucking weeks. He has no idea why he trusts this curly-headed boy more than any other person in his life, or why all Alex can associate him with is a heady combination of safety and arousal, despite the fact that he knows next to nothing about Guerin’s life before a month ago. But it doesn’t matter – not when Michael is warm and solid in front of him, a soothing balm to the wounded surface of his being, and Alex can’t help but fall into it. 

“There. All cleaned up – I wish I had a first aid kit or something, though. Think you might need a bandaid for that cut.” Michael pulls away as if to dig for something he can use. The warmth of his hands on Alex’s face disappears, and Alex instinctively chases the sensation. He ends up with the healthy side of his face pressed into the crook of Michael’s neck, and only hesitates for an instant before wrapping his arms around his waist, as well. 

“Head wounds bleed a lot,” he reminds Michael, lips moving against the soft skin of his neck. Now that he’s shaken off most of the night’s horrors, touch is exactly what he wants – and, well, Alex has always been good about going after what he wants. “It’s fine.” 

Michael doesn’t answer, but slowly shifts to rest a hand against the bony protrusions of Alex’s spine near the center of his back. Alex suspects it’s because he noticed the way he favored his ribs, earlier, and appreciates the thoughtfulness. They sit there silently for a moment: Alex holding tight to the steadiest part of his life and Michael rubbing slow, calming circles on his back. It’s a perfect moment, despite the events that led to it, and Alex is brimming with excitement for the next three days full of moments just like this one. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” Michael tells him, the words whispered into the top of his head. It’s spoken like a benediction, and Alex doesn’t have it in him to be annoyed by the fact that Michael’s breaking his one and only rule: they don’t talk about his father, or even come close. Instead, Alex just nods, squeezes Michael one last time, and pulls away with a smirk.

“C’mon, Guerin, let’s get this show on the road – I’m not missing the opening act because you’re pissing around,” he tells Michael with a hint of mischief in his expression. Guerin scoffs, but slams the tailgate closed when Alex hops off, and is poised to climb into the driver’s seat when Alex grabs him by the collar and yanks him in for a kiss. He can’t say thank you without admitting that something was wrong, can’t acknowledge how incredible Michael has been tonight without mentioning the mess he’d run from, but he can put it all into this kiss – and he thinks Michael gets the message, because he’s breathless and smiling when Alex pulls back, his expression as open and besotted as Alex has ever seen it. A hint of smug satisfaction steals into Alex’s heart at that, and he jumps into the cab of the truck with a spring in his step. 

Jesse Manes can’t stop Alex from being happy. There’s a month until graduation, and he might be able to break his bones, but tonight has only proven that Alex is going to make it. And before anything else, he’s going to spend three blissful days of music, laughter, and love with his undeclared boyfriend. What better way to flip Jesse Manes’ intolerant ass the bird than that? 

“Albuquerque, here we come,” he murmurs, and links a hand with Michael’s free one as they start off down the road toward the interstate. 

(Three months later, the only thing Alex has left to of Michael to take with him to basic training is a photo of the two of them standing in the middle of a clearing in Alberquerque, posing with a borrowed guitar and sappy smiles that wouldn’t last.)


End file.
